Jonathan Tillman Level 37 Son of Flame
The wave of green and blue energy washed over Tilly, instantly clearing away his remaining Debuffs and soothing his strained Mana Pathways. As his vision cleared, all that was left of the immense wave of energy was a dancing blue and green flame hovering before him. It floated there expectantly and not entirely sure what to do, Tilly followed his instincts and lifted his hands to the flame as if receiving a gift.
It split obligingly, its green nature moving toward Tilly’s left wrist and its blue nature moving toward Tilly’s right. The flames elongated and cooled, forming two silver bracelets. They were a matching set, one with a vibrant green crystal set in the midst of carved flames and the other with an electric blue gem set among an intricate scene of interlaced flora.
Celestial Bracelets of Substitutional Might
‘Celestial… Isn’t that the highest grade in existence?’ Tilly thought to himself as he pulled up his notification log to see just what these items were capable of. All around the chamber, the vibrant energy of change thrummed as Amelia and every member of the “Originals” were transformed.
…
Linus Level 69 Consul
Linus thrust his borrowed spear right into the eye of an oncoming Consumer who had lept over the first Rank using the hill of crumbled bodies as a springboard. With its momentum arrested on his spear, a soldier to his right screamed and chopped deeply into its neck even as it was still fighting to disembowel those in the second and third rank.
“PUSH THEM BACK!” The new Bastion Commander called from somewhere down the wall. The Bastion’s Unit Magic sent a concussive burst outward, clearing the top of the wall momentarily and buying the whole formation a few breaths of room.
“Second Rank! Fall back, Third Fill-In! Reserves, UP!” Linus called in a hoarse voice his commands echoing up and down the wall as they took their moment of reprieve to refill the ranks supporting the stalwart Bastions on the front of the wall.
…Incredibly, they were holding. The roiling mass of enraged enemies had been stopped, unable to clear the obstacle before them. For days the enemy had tested the stopping power of the soldiers on the wall and repeatedly the units stationed at the top had barely held. They had stood fast, taking minor, but over time, significant losses, facing just a fraction of the enemy’s might.
But this was a calculated risk, one that had finally paid off. From his time as their commander, he knew that even with the increase in average level, the Bastions would run out of unit magic to spend in the next couple of minutes, but they had successfully stopped the full weight of the charge against the wall, and now much of the enemy was clamoring over itself in confusion at the sudden halt in the attack.
In the distance, he heard the sound of inhuman roaring followed by a crash so loud that it rattled the sword sheathed on his hip, Whatever that calvary was… their Charge Ability was like nothing Linus had ever seen.
His attention was drawn back to the battle before him as the Strigoi regrouped and sprinted up the mountain of their own dead to take running leaps at the Alliance’s front line all over again. Crashing like waves of enraged flesh against the bulwark of the Alliance’s finest soldiers. Erash was down to one knee, being guarded by Hiro as she channeled all of her Mana into the enchantment that spread her heal over time to the entire front line. Green energy sparked subtly around the Bastion’s boots as her Buff plus their own Unit Magic gave them everything they needed to stand fast.
The enemy died in the hundreds and then the thousands, as the previously dominant Consumers met their match in the stalwart front-line defenders. If the Fleshbags had been allowed to charge… it would have been a massacre. But the Consumers and lesser strigoi alone were all strength and speed. With their momentum arrested against the immovable shields of the Bastions, they fell like so much wheat before the scythe, feeding the entire formation Experience at an incredible rate.
A screaming call was taken up at the center of the enemy mass, one that spread to the entire back half of the forces that had come to take the wall. Linus' burgeoning hope came crashing back down as half of the charging enemy turned towards the surrounding cliffs and split their forces down the middle, preparing to try and climb in order to circumvent the wall altogether.
“Rangers, Tidecallers and Third Rankers! Get everything you have on those cliffs, Now!” Linus bellowed urgently, hefting his own spear and hurling it with incredible accuracy at one of the front-running Consumers.
He watched just long enough to see his throw find its mark, amidst far too many misses from his still unskilled soldiers. Then he turned and shouted down into the logistics area choked with all of their remaining soldiers in different states of injury or resupply.
“Reserves! Fall back and sweep the nearby forests! We have flankers incoming!”
Unfortunately for their plan, almost all of the unit’s leaders were up on the wall holding the first rank against the Horde, but he did hear one all too familiar voice start to rise above the chaos down below,
“Alright, you Worthless Slugs! Nap time is over! Get equipped and get into the trees! Kill anything that moves!
‘That woman deserves a commendation…’ Linus thought wryly as he rushed to the units on the stairs. They would need to pass up their spears to replace the ones they had just lost in the initial volley…
…
Igor Level 86 Vampiric Mesmer
An ear-splitting screech of frustration ripped itself free from between his teeth. This was not how it was supposed to be! The stubborn cattle had displayed a surprising amount of resilience in the face of their charge, and while Igor was confident he could break their cowardly collective Abilities himself, doing so would embroil him in hand-to-hand conflict.
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That was less than ideal if he wanted to be the first to reach the succulent prize at the heart of this little Faction. He flexed his Will in fury against Father’s commands before once again finding them completely gone… Had he already forgotten that he was now free.
Why play by the rules? Why delay?
He layered Command over his voice and called for a change in the attack. Any of the Horde too far from the wall to make themselves useful were to pull away from the frontal assault and take to the cliffs.
Then using even more of his dwindling Mana, he shrouded himself in Plain Visage and siphoned off as much Mana from the surrounding fodder as possible, scaling the cliffs along with thousands of his weaker brethren. He could have pulled ahead but knew it would be easier to pass unnoticed amid the flood of his kin.
A pitiful few projectiles and Abilities swept along the vertical surface, removing hundreds of those around him, but leaving thousands more untouched. They would flood the surrounding forest and sow chaos, providing the perfect distraction for Igor to pluck the prize he had so readily earned from this low-hanging branch.
As he joined the flow of fodder over the lip of the unnaturally tall cliff face, he became aware of something strange happening along the route that most of his inferiors had taken towards the cattle settlement. Howls of surprise and the sound of snapping wood greeted his senses as he followed the flow a little further into the forest until he found that many of his kin were locked in combat with… Plants.
Igor growled in frustration at his own Factions' stupidity. They continued to throw themself into the carnage, not nearly as disciplined as they had once been under the heavy shackles of Father’s Will. He thought for a moment about redirecting them, but then he spat in disgust, and left the idiotic conflict behind, choosing to range farther laterally until he found a gap in whatever protection this was. Their purpose was chaos, and they were accomplishing it just fine.
He moved through the forest like a ghost, leaning into all the advantages that his respectable Dexterity gave him in this obstacle-strewn environment. Now that he was away from all the noise and stink that unfortunately always accompanied the Horde, he was able to pick up a sharp bitter smell about twenty paces closer to the settlement. It stung his nostrils and reminded him of burning metal.
His combat instincts, honed over decades of fighting every day for every scrap of power he had gained, kept him from pressing the barrier multiple times. They prickled up and down his back as he attempted to approach the mysterious protection. It was no enchantment, Igor would have tasted it on his tongue, but something had been set in place around the settlement that was dangerous to his kind.
His limited experience in magic was not enough for him to investigate further, and he honestly didn't care. He knew he didn’t understand what was at play here, and that made him worry. He had not survived this long by being reckless… But his new strength gnawed at his insides, salivating for him to move in for the kill, and take the prize hidden within. The Hunger he had won at the Bloodwells was not a patient force and his rows of sharpened teeth cut fresh lines of blood in his gums as his jaw clenched in internal conflict.
Finally, the desperate part of his nature won out, and he used half of his remaining Mana and 20% of his Health to summon Blood Armor. Wounds opened all along his body, and blood gushed out, immediately hardening into dozens of shell-like carapace plates that would block almost any strike, but shatter in the process. He was not too worried about the Mana loss, he was sure there would be plenty of snacks on the way to find his unguarded prize.
Now fully armored, he changed the direction of his run like a striking snake, diving into the bitter-smelling line of magically fortified plants. They immediately reacted to his presence, whipping toward him with Mana-enhanced speed and attempting to snare him in vines, branches, and roots.
He leaned fully into his build, dodging as many of the grasping plants as possible while making sure to only take hits on armored areas when he couldn’t avoid the plant's touch. Blood carapace shattered around him as he burst through the hostile zone and exited out of the reach of the animated guardians.
Sneering back at the inept defensive measure, he turned to orient himself and froze.
There, leaning against a tree was one of the cattle. He looked gristly and seemed not to have noticed Igor’s crashing through the forest. Instead, the cattle was entirely focused on lighting a pipe, taking a deep pull from its stem, and releasing a smoke ring with a grunt of contentment.
Igor smiled, happy to take his meals raw or smoked. He sprung forward clawed fingers extending to rip out the cattle’s wrinkled neck when the creature looked up and met his eyes.
There was no surprise there, not even concern, and Igor’s combat instincts screamed at him. He broke off his lunge, strafing sideways and lowering into a crouch, eyeing his surroundings warily for some trap.
“You were right again wife…” The elderly cattle called, looking down at Igor in amusement. His identifier reading,
Level 58 Agriculturalist
Igor snarled in fury at his casual dismissal, especially when he was so clearly a weakling, but his instincts continued to scream at him to flee. Something about how they smelled did not match up with the low levels shown to him by the System.
“George, it's been three Epochs and you are still so quick to doubt…” Igor’s head whipped to the side as another bony specimen stepped out from in between some trees.
Level 52 Arborist
Looking back and forth at these two Igor began to feel an itch at the back of his mind. A lifetime of pushing against Father’s influence had sharpened his Will to a razor edge, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion, as the system-produced identifiers started to waver, as if covered in a haze.
“Not so fast, little monster…” The elderly male rebuked, shaking his pipe stem at Igor in mock chastisement. That final dismissal of his superiority was enough to break Igor's caution. The Hunger screamed in him to kill and he obliged, lurching for the female in the blink of an eye. His eyes lit up with Mesmerize as he strained toward her jugular with his claws.
Something like a vice clamped around his extended arm, arresting all of his momentum, and nearly ripping his arm out of its socket. He looked up from the easy smile of the female to find the bony male’s hand around his arm. Acting on instinct, he channeled all his remaining Mana into his Ability, pouring weaponized hate out through his glowing red eyes.
The man stared back, his dull grey eyes slowly developing a multi-hued glow of their own, “You want into my head do you? Suit yourself…” He muttered around his pipe stem.
Igor’s Ability crashed into the cattle's soul and dissipated like a drop in the ocean. He tried to pull back, but the connection had already been made, and the weight behind those eyes crushed his soul with barely a thought. The Vampiric Mesmur’s body collapsed in a boneless heap, as he screamed internally, locked away from any agency over his soon-to-be-ended life.
“That doesn’t count does it?” George asked, looking over at Edna, a few creases of worry forming around his eyes.
“I’m sure it doesn’t. This is just saving us a little mess down the line, it doesn’t change anything major…” She answered, moving over to pat him reassuringly on the shoulder.
A boom of energy sounded in the distance, and a light flashed near the top of the far mountain. Both of the elderly satyrs glanced in that direction, eyes reading through the many layers of reality with long practice.
“Oh Good! The dears made it. I knew all that trouble with little Cog would be worth it!” Edna said with a smile.
“Right again, dear,” George replied, a slow easy smile stretching the corners of his mouth, forming a familiar network of lines reaching up to his eyes.
“...Right again.”